


Smile More, It Suits You

by Euhines



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Budding Family Relationship, Dadbriel Reyes, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Mijo McCree, Minuscule Angst, Pre-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7991173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euhines/pseuds/Euhines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re two souls on a lonely rooftop, high enough to make constellations of their own but still too close to the earth that holds no place for people like them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile More, It Suits You

Jesse counts the number of cigarettes left in his pack as Gabriel hums softly to himself, leaning forward against the railing that separates him from the bottomless waters of Gibraltar down below. _Oh, the king, gone mad within his suffering._ Melodies crash against the shores of his mind, lyrics sprayed against boulders. A new song stuck in Gabriel’s head every week. A curse one day, a blessing the next. He’s not sure which one it is right now though.

He spares Jesse a glance and is not surprised to find a pleased expression upon his face.

 _‘When you hum,’_ Jesse had said cheekily one day, a cocktail of nicotine, sweat, and gunpowder sticking to his brown skin after several grueling days in the Mojave Desert, _‘it reminds me you’re just as soft as the rest of us.’_

Gabriel has to bow his head to suppress the snort. He misses Jesse’s curious stare as he clears his throat and rolls his shoulders. Better to not let the ingrate know he’s capable of laughing too. He has a reputation to protect. 

From the corner of his eye he sees Jesse shrug to himself, pocketing the pack of cigarettes. One is unlit between his lips, and it's more in the act of a comfort than an addiction. Gabriel has to refrain from smacking it out of his mouth. It's better to take it one step at a time.

They gaze up together at the pale moon and the stars beyond scattered clouds. It’s a sight he’s still amazed by, a pinch of childlike awe within his dark eyes. Downtown Los Angeles had become too polluted and its sky resembling fog on a mirror that refused to be wiped away. Technological advancement had taken its toll on the West Coast; the omnium factory slowly killed the city and its warm colors. Even after its shutdown, it left a scar that permanently disfigured Gabriel’s hometown.

He hasn't visited home in years.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, boss?” Jesse fiddles with his lighter, something to keep his hands busy with. He leans back into the railing as he sits on the floor. One ankle crossed over the other.

Gabriel works his jaw up and down silently for a few seconds as he thinks of a lie. “Wondering when Amari is gonna kick down that door and ask why we missed dinner.” The lie is smooth, maybe a little too smooth.

“She knows damn well Blackwatch ain’t welcomed there.” Jesse soaks it up like a sponge; the naivety of a child with an old man’s scars. He’s eighteen, but he hasn’t aged a day. “Sometimes I feel like the cafeteria lady spits in my food.” He mumbles the last sentence, a pout forming around his cigarette.

It's a legitimate concern. Gabriel furrows his brows and starts to think about that too. Maybe he should compliment her hair more often.

A hush covers them as the world somehow gets darker despite the moon glowing as brightly as she can. Midnight has passed minutes ago, and his eyes are burning with fatigue he’s learned to ignore. Gabriel looks deep into the sky, a tilt of his head, words mouthed by soft lips. It looks like he’s praying.

Jesse decides to light his cigarette.

“Why haven’t you switched to the cigars I gave you?” Gabriel grunts. He accidentally inhales the smoke Jesse exhales. “The synthetic tobacco won’t kill you.”

An annoyed huff. “This pack cost a fortune. New Mexico’s finest only given to Deadlock members, and I’m makin’ it last.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes, turning so that his hip rests against the railing and he’s facing Jesse. There’s a smile on his face. It’s barely there, only an echo perhaps of the smiles he had as a child but it’s visible from the dim light coming from the entrance to the roof. Jesse doesn’t catch it, never does.

It’s only been a year yet Gabriel feels as if Jesse came a long way. Deadlock is still in his mannerisms, his strides, but he’s slowly letting them go. Maybe once the cigarettes are finished—his last tie to the gang—Jesse will become the pupil he expects instead of an ingrate with wise jokes and a smart mouth. But Gabriel wouldn't mind a balance of the two; it keeps him on his toes.

He remembers the snappy and scrawny teen sitting in the interrogation room, handcuffed to the steel table. Jesse insulted Morrison with merciless spitfire, hitting emotional pressure points that left Gabriel having to take over and Reinhardt dragging out Jack before he killed the minor. It was amusing as it was frightening. 

Jesse regarded Gabriel as his next victim, and attempted to read him, take him apart piece by piece with the precision of a surgeon. He leaned back into his metal chair after a moment and said: “ _You hate your life like me?_ ”

Gabriel had been floored, finally seeing the seventeen year old behind the ruthless mask of a criminal. A mask that he should have never had.

That was when Gabriel gave him the offer to turn a new leaf.

Three months into Jesse’s training, there was a conversation Gabriel would never forget. They were in the shooting range, sun beginning to dip below the horizon, warming the walls through the window. Jesse held Peacekeeper, a joint gift from Ana and Gabriel, within trembling fingers. It was unlike the revolver he previously owned, and he could barely use it with his Deadeye. It left him frustrated and of course, he had taken it out on Gabriel.

Jesse aimed Peacekeeper at Gabriel’s heart. _‘When you fix a person you put yourself up to be broken.’_ He swallowed. He was trying not to cry. _‘You shoulda left me in maximum security.’_

Gabriel sighed softly, knuckles grazing along Jesse’s smooth forehead, soothing his worries. Something Gabriel’s own father did to him whenever he asked about the unpaid bills on the counter and fretted over _M_ _ami_ staying out too late for work. Peacekeeper, although awkwardly, still pointed to his chest as he brought Jesse into a hug. He felt warm tears alongside the biting cold of the revolver’s barrel through his thin turtleneck.

Jesse yanks him out of his daydream. It’s like a gunshot, as if he had actually pulled the trigger that day. “You ever wonder what it’s like to be forgotten?” he asks with the numbness of a man who’s asked that question a thousand times before.

The smile slips off Gabriel’s face; he’s unsure over what brought this on.

“One day, _poof_ ”—Jesse exhales a cloud of smoke and swipes it with his hand—”I’ll be gone from everyone’s thoughts, just like bein’ killed.”

“You’re pretty hard to forget, ingrate.” Gabriel shakes his head and sits beside him, bringing one knee to his chest as he counts the seconds. There’s thinly veiled affection in his tone.

“Really?” Jesse’s voice is small; soft timber and cracks around each syllable. “Ya think so?” there’s a minuscule smile on his face, dripping with the low self esteem of an actual teenager.

Gabriel doesn’t think he’s ever even gone to a school dance or prom. Or even a birthday party for that matter.

It’s hard not to return the smile. He licks his lips with the tip of his tongue as he feels the corner of his mouth tilt. He removes the cigarette between Jesse’s lips before tossing it over his shoulder and into the ocean below. “You’ll be the best agent this world has ever seen. A hero.” Gabriel motions for Jesse to give him the cigarette pack.

“A hero?” Jesse repeats, grabbing the pack from his pocket. Despite complaining about the worth of the cigarette earlier, he does not look irritated by Gabriel’s deed. “People remember heroes?” a kind of grudging hesitation, even shy disbelief within his question.

Jesse's cynicism is as notorious as his cowboy getup.

The hand reaching for the pack almost curls into a fist full of crumbling innocence. Gabriel tries not to think about the gold medal around a young Jack’s neck as he shakes the hand of the UN’s Secretary General. “Yeah, they do, _mijo.”_ It comes out of his mouth before he can stop it, stumbling like a toddler. He almost has a stroke out of embarrassment.

Jesse openly stares at him, shock registering slowly on his tilted eyebrows. Gabriel tries to look at everything but him as his hand falls to his lap. The sound of chatting agents returning from the local bar fill their ears along with crickets chirping. There’s a hum of a motorcycle, maybe a Blackwatch agent making his way to a mission.

The light above the door flickers. The rooftop molds into the dingy motel room he shared with Jesse a month ago. The mattress was hard, their backs were pressed against each other. There was dried blood on Jesse’s hat. First mission gone wrong.

Gabriel knew Jesse gripped Peacekeeper with his soul laid out on his fingertips and his remorse rising like smoke at the end of the barrel.

But he would make Jesse a hero, no matter what.

Jesse shifts, pulling at the collar of his shirt as he loudly sniffs. He rubs his chin, smooth skin barely touched by stubble. There’s a blush on his cheeks. “Don’t think I’ll be callin’ you _papá_ anytime soon, old man.”

Gabriel can barely smother the laugh with his gloved palm, barely registering that Jesse threw the pack of cigarettes over his shoulder. The answer is something so _Jesse McCree_ and it amuses him to no end. He almost forgets about his little slip up, breathing ragged as he regains his composure. He schools his expression, leaning to the side to forcefully tip Jesse’s hat so it covers the top half of his face. “I’m not asking you to.”

His only response is a small tsk and a jingling spur.

They sit there for a little longer as their legs fall asleep faster than they can. Jesse shivers slightly from the cold, and Gabriel thinks about the red serape he has in his closet, a gift from his grandmother that he never really put on. Maybe he could gift it to Jesse on his nineteenth birthday.

It bothers him how naturally the thought occurs, and he tries not to scowl, wondering when he signed custody papers in the interrogation room a year ago. He doesn’t feel like a dad. At least, he’s not sure how being a dad feels like. Gabriel admits that Jesse is worming his way into his heart; he’s becoming family, becoming someone as important as Amari, Reinhardt, hell even Torbjorn and Liao. Jack is like the distant brother who occasionally joins family get-togethers only to spend it in a corner with the grandparents who constantly compliment him. Thinking about the Strike-Commander still leaves traces of a bitter taste in his mouth. But regardless, he is family too.

When a particularly cool breeze curls around their still forms, Gabriel decides it’s best to go back inside.

“Hey, boss?” Jesse calls suddenly as they make their way down the stairs. His cowboy boots tap against the hard cement, echoing to the very first floor.

Gabriel looks over his shoulder as he says, “What is it, Jesse?”

“You should smile more.” Jesse nervously pulls at the sleeve of his shirt. “It suits you, Reyes.”

He accidentally skips a step and holds onto the railing for dear life. Whatever reputation remained just flew out the window. “That’s Captain Reyes to you.” Gabriel clears his throat and glares at him, completely ignoring his suggestion.

“Your admonishin’ stare,” Jesse grins mischievously, “is my favorite.”   

Gabriel flips him the bird and continues walking down the stairs to the fourth floor with quick footsteps.

“Shut it, ingrate.”

Jesse laughs and rushes to catch up. He’s twelve again, chasing the butterfly in the backyard of his grandmother’s broken down home back in Sante Fe. The summer sun beat down on his brown face as the creaking of her rocking chair served as background noise. It landed on the branch of a tree, and he aimed his tiny fingers like a gun. _Bang,_ he muttered, picturing it fall dead at his feet. His first shot.

“Don’t go so fast, you’ll fall,” Gabriel scolds. He hears his father’s worried timbre within his own.

“Aw, you worried ‘bout me?”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut it?” Gabriel groans and runs a hand down his face.

“That’s not how you should speak to your own son,” Jesse teases.

Gabriel faces forward and refuses to let Jesse see his smile. He shakes his head as Jesse follows closely, filling in the footsteps he leaves behind.


End file.
